


The CD Is Skipping

by thatzodiacsky



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 14,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatzodiacsky/pseuds/thatzodiacsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini fic requests from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shinene Love/Hate Relationship

"Nice shot, Master!" Ene squeaked, dodging sideways and shifting weapons from her heavy blaster to some small laser pistol. "But not nice enough!" At his computer, Shintaro swore. He hadn’t unlocked that one yet. 

Her in-game avatar, which looked just like her but clad in heavy boots and futuristic armor, raised the pistol and fired at his character one handed. Again, Shintaro’s avatar collapsed to the ground and ‘Game Over!’ began to blink across the screen. 

Behind the rage-inducing words, he could see her model leaning down to kiss his ‘dead’ corpse, full on the mouth. He gripped the edge of his desk, unintelligible curses grinding between his clenched teeth as her pixelated hand stroked down the dead face of the video game model that looked both not enough and too much like him. It was infuriating, the things she could make this game do. Things that should never be possible. He hated cheaters like her.


	2. Fem!Seto/Fem!Kano

"It’s okay," the taller girl said as the other’s fingers carded through her short black hair. It would hurt, if Kano’s nails weren’t bitten short to the point of bleeding. She leaned down to kiss her, soft and gentle and comforting. "It’s okay," Seto promised again, and the girl below her regarded her with narrowed eyes and a wide grin, seemingly fine.

Seto knew better. They two had been walking home when a man, taller even than Seto, had stopped them both, asking if they were doing anything that night. The man had grabbed Seto’s arm, and before she knew what was happening Kano had kicked him hard, before grabbing her hand and running. Seto had seen the glint of a folded pocketknife in the man’s hand, and she could feel the terror running through the smaller girl even now, even as she leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of that toothy grin. 

The heels of Kano’s chunky black boots dug into her lower back, and she thought about complaining that the blonde was ruining her work uniform, but she knew that Kano needed her close now, so she shut her mouth and dedicated herself to turning that fake smile into a real and genuine one. It didn’t take long at all.


	3. Kido thinks Kano's lying, but he's not.

"If you think you’re going to get sympathy from me, it’s not happening," Kido declared as she walked into the room. Kano was lounging on the couch, and he glanced up as she came in.

"Woah, rude,” he said with his hands raised defensively, “since when did I want something like that from you anyway?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed to his arm, where a wide ace bandage wrapped around his wrist and halfway to his elbow. ”I know you can hide any injury, or make any injury appear. So clearly, you want something. And you’re using that to get it.”

Kano laughed, disbelieving, and followed her with his eyes as she crossed the room to sit on the other couch. “What if I’m genuinely injured. Won’t you feel bad then?”

"Not one bit," she replied loftily, lifting her chin. 

He whined. ”It’s just too tiring to hide something like this. I don’t know why you’re doubting me. It hurts. It hurts right here.” he patted his uninjured hand on his chest, approximately where he imagined his heart would be if he had one.

"I’m doubting you," she gritted, already sick of dealing with him, "because every word out of that stupid mouth of yours is a lie, and I’m sick of it. That injury isn’t real, and both of us know it."

Right as she spoke, Seto wandered into the room, and his eyes caught on Kano’s bandage. ”Oh hey, sorry about your wrist again,” he said as he walked between them to get a book from one of the shelves. ”I don’t know my own strength, I guess.” Behind his back, Kano pointed to the bandage, and then mimed a heart breaking in half. Kido raised her eyes to the ceiling as if to say ‘god give me strength’.


	4. Mary falls asleep in a pile of laundry. Seto/Mary.

It was Mary’s turn to do laundry, and she dragged her stool over to the dryer, pulling out first a large blanket. That was easy enough to fold, and she laid it down on the floor to take to the other room later. Next were armfuls of shirts that fell beyond her knees when she held them up, so she figured they were probably Seto’s. They could be Konoha’s, she guessed, but she’d never seen him in other clothes. Plus, some of these shirts looked familiar, she thought, as she held up a tshirt with the logo of some video store that had long gone of out of business. It was so old that the fabric had been worn thin and soft, and she breathed in the smell of the detergent they all used. It smelled like home to her, and a content smile crossed her face.

Folding the shirts was hard, because they were so big, but she managed for awhile, hanging up the few collared ones even though they’d have to be ironed later. At the bottom of the dryer she discovered something that made her grin ear to ear. It wasn’t Seto’s, or at least, not anymore; it was her white jacket with stitched on roses, and she put it on immediately, feeling the warmth sink into her bones. She was tired from working at folding the shirts, so she curled up on the pile just for a few minutes to enjoy the heat from the dryer. Her eyelids were surprisingly heavy, and before she knew it she was asleep.

Some point later, she woke up to find herself even more surrounded with the detergent smell, with an underlying smell that made her feel safe and cared for and made her want to go back to sleep. She creaked her eyes open anyway. She was wrapped in the big blanket, she found, and the warmth was no longer coming from the fabric but from a big body lying next to hers, an arm thrown across her shoulders. She rolled over to double check, but she already knew it was Seto before she saw his sleeping face, his mouth hanging open in a silly expression. She giggled a little, but yawned immediately after, and snuggled back up against him to fall back asleep.


	5. Seto/Mary and Timelines

"I’ll see you tomorrow!" she says eagerly, and he waves.

"Bye," she says, and then it slips out, too much of a habit from another lifetime. "Love you!" 

He stops waving.

"…huh?" he says weakly, and she already knows it’s a mistake. He is four feet and three inches of nervous eleven year old boy and she is a monster who is more than a hundred years old in body and several times that in mind. 

She could explain it away. Say she’s used to saying it to her mom, she didn’t mean it, or that he’s like a part of her family anyway. She doesn’t lie to him.

"I do. Don’t you love me?"

(She knows he does because he says it to her, at least once a timeline and sometimes more. Sometimes he only says it over his shoulder, arms spread wide, I love you, I’ll protect you, before going off to die. Sometimes he says it more, ten times, a hundred times, whispered into her hair and murmured into her neck and pressed into her forehead with a hundred million thousand kisses that she selfishly keeps in her memory each time she resets.)

He looks confused though, and she feels her bones curl, feels regret and anger and frustration because of course he does. He always did.

She can’t get an answer from him and he excuses himself somehow, and doesn’t come back the next day, or the day after that.

It’s another timeline where he doesn’t say it until it’s too late, because he doesn’t answer her until years (years too short) later when his jaw trembles and everyone is dead, and he breaks down and says “I do, I did, I’m sorry,” and then he’s gone.

Mary takes her blank slate and turns it over in her hands, wonders how she can play differently this time. Wonders what she should do to make the most of the time they will have. It will always be too short.


	6. Seto/Mary, but Seto is actually Kano

Takes place during/before The Kinds of Alive You Can Be

Mary was rubbing shampoo into her hair, an arduous task that would take her hours. Already, her arms were aching, and she wasn’t even half done. Behind her, she heard the door slide open, and she squeaked, covering her chest with her crossed arms, even though her back was to the door, and her hair covered her from behind all the way down to the edge of the bathtub anyway.

There was a shuffling noise behind her, and then Seto’s voice answered her. “Sorry about that! I just thought I’d do some laundry and get your dress while I was at it.”

Goosebumps rose on her neck and shoulders, and she tried to ignore them. He didn’t even sound nervous. ”It’s fine,” she mumbled, waiting for him to leave. Instead, there was a moment of silence, and then his footsteps moved closer. She twisted around in surprise, opening her mouth to shout at him or to ask him what he was doing, but he cupped the back of her head, his big hand sliding in the shampoo, and kissed her full on the mouth. 

She couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t embarrassed, why she wasn’t embarrassed— she grabbed his shirt, making dark wet patches where she touched him. After a second, he pulled away and patted her head, saying, 

"You missed a spot," and dabbed soap suds onto the tip of her nose. Then he left, her dress hanging over his arm, and she watched him go, breathing hard. She was missing something alright.


	7. Kuroene

"They all break in time," Kuroha crooned, settling down on his nest of limbs torn from bodies. In his hand he held a cell phone, the screen glowing bright in the darkness. "Even she leaves for another timeline. But not you. You’ll stay with me forever, right?"

The girl on the screen puffed up her cheeks and turned away from him, the display purposefully childish. 

"Ah, don’t ignore me. That’s no fun at all." He stroked the screen, rubbing the pads of his bloodstained fingers over her electric hair, her clean jersey. Somehow, he couldn’t taint her. He couldn’t destroy her. But soon he would find a way.

"I’m going to take you apart," he whispered lovingly, pressing his lips to the screen where her face was, and though she cringed, she didn’t try to leave the screen.


	8. Hiyori

They all wanted things from her. Her parents wanted their perfect little girl. The teachers wanted the obedient student who only flashed her wit when it benefited them. The boys in her class wanted her to be a princess, an idol. The girls hated her, or at least most of them did, and so she hated the lot.

They complimented her, told her that she was pretty, that she was so smart, that her sarcasm was cute. They didn’t laugh. They only wanted to use her, so it was only fair that she use them back, asking her parents sweetly for the newest phone. Telling the teacher that she wanted a desk by the window. Making that boy carry her books, do her homework, buy her lunch— and still they looked at her like she was doing everything right, and she hated it.

But then.

There was a strange boy who looked at her like she was something new. He listened to her words without facial expression, absorbing every little bit of information. He picked her up when she asked, he reached for things on high shelves. But he did it without expectations. She realized, that for the first time, here was someone who didn’t want something of her. 

She needed him. She needed that blank stare. She needed a conversation where she could say harsh things without surprised laughter, without being patronized.

She wouldn’t let anything come between them.


	9. KanoXKidoXSeto

Kido should have expected it to end up like this when they’d moved out and ended up living together, without any adults. But still she was a little confused about the process, about how exactly she’d gotten here, on her back in her bed with Seto covering the hollow of her neck with kisses and Kano pushing her shirt up to do the same to her stomach. 

It shouldn’t be hot. They were her foster brothers, and furthermore they were both idiots. But Kano reappeared in her line of sight and kissed her sloppily, pushing Seto’s head out of the way so he could lean over her properly, and Kido felt heat sweep through her. Seto whined in disappointment, and Kido felt around for him with one hand, catching ahold of his shirt and dragging him back down before he think to leave. 

Kano wasn’t satisfied with just kissing her; his hand was dipping under the hem of her pajama pants already, and Kido squirmed at the strange feeling of his long fingers against her thigh. There were lips on the curve of her hip and Kido suddenly realized she’d forgotten about Seto, and she wouldn’t be able to see him even if her eyes were open as Kano kissed her. The lips moved to the edge of her rib cage, and her bra was being shoved up messily, and that was the last straw. Kido pushed them both away, sitting up and gasping as the motion made Kano’s hand press briefly against her.

"Are you cavemen?" she demanded angrily, and they stared back at her, Seto looking upset and confused and Kano amused, a crooked smile on his face. "It’s not that hard," she mumbled, reaching around and undoing her bra. Seto choked a gasp of relief, glad he hadn’t messed up that badly, and Kano raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t just sit there," she growled as she pushed the straps off her shoulders, "take your shirts off, then." No one was getting any sleep tonight.


	10. Fem!Seto/Mary

Seto stroked Mary’s hair and kissed her forehead, mumbling, “it’s okay, it’s okay.” The small girl tossed and turned in her arms, obviously having a bad dream. She didn’t want to wake her, but if she started crying or yelling she’d wake up Kano, and then she’d be upset and embarrassed for the rest of the day. She kissed her forehead again, then her lips, and in her sleep Mary responded, calming down and kissing her back. Seto pulled away after a moment, feeling guilty. 

The feeling only got worse as Mary opened her eyes. ”Seto?” she whined, blinking sleep-tears from her eyes, and Seto offered her a smile, shushing her. Mary’s eyes flickered to Kano’s bed and then back to Seto’s face. She bit her lip. ”Did you kiss me?” she asked, her voice barely audible, and for a moment Seto considered pretending that she hadn’t heard her. But then she nodded slowly, and Mary wriggled closer. ”Will you do it again?” she asked, and Seto couldn’t say no to her.

She kissed her gently at first, her fingers combing through her hair, but Mary seemed almost desperate, winding her arms around her neck and pulling the two of them close. Seto’s breath stuttered in her throat as Mary worked a thin leg between hers, intent on wrapping both of her legs around one of Seto’s. When Mary pulled away, shifting downwards to be closer to her and nuzzle into her chest, Seto tried to keep her breath even. ”Mary, we have to be quiet—” she whispered into her hair, and Mary’s breath puffed out against her chest. She should probably start wearing more than a sports bra and shorts to bed, if she was going to let the other girl sleep here too. 

"I’ll be quiet," Mary insisted, and Seto opened her mouth to say that even whispering was too loud, when Mary adjusted her nightgown so the hem was up around her waist and then ground against her leg. The larger girl had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, but Mary kept going, and Seto felt for a handhold on her, her fingers just missing her shoulder and ending up with her palm on her chest, the small curve of Mary’s chest making her flush. Mary seized her wrist before she could pull away, pressing Seto’s hand against her, and Seto shook her off, but only so she could rub her thumb over her breast through the fabric.

Mary squeaked, and Seto immediately released her to clap both hands over the white-haired girl’s mouth, but it was too late.

"By all means, keep going," Kano’s dry voice drawled from the other bed. "Pretend I’m not here."

Mary’s face burned with embarrassment under Seto’s fingers, and they stared at each other with wide eyes, unable to come up with a good excuse.


	11. konoene nsfw

Anyone who knew Konoha wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. He was bent over a cellphone, one that probably belonged to Shintaro or Momo, and talking calmly in his quiet voice. He and Ene had been becoming close lately, so it wasn't strange.

On closer inspection…

"Ah, you should take care of that…" he murmured, sounding nothing but concerned.

"That's your fault!" a shrill voice echoed from the tinny speakers, and he just blinked back slowly. "if you hadn't— started talking about things like that— how'm I supposed to—"

Konoha believed he knew the answer to her question, whether she'd really wanted one or not. "I've seen this," he commented, "on the internet." It seemed like he was done, and then he added, "…you'll want to put your hand between your legs."

A muffled cry of frustration blared from the screen, but on it, the little digital girl couldn't help but listen to his advice, sliding her pixeled hand up one thigh, then under her skirt. If only he would keep talking.

As though he'd heard her thoughts, he continued. "And then I think you just… rub, somehow? I think you can put your fingers in if you want—"

What Ene really wanted was to scream, to tell him to take the phone somewhere private, to have someone touch her after two long years of being nothing but data. "Tell me what you'd do," she gasped.

Konoha paused. "I'm a boy, so—"

"Tell me what you'd do to me," she clarified, trembling, and he nodded in understanding.

"At first, I think I'd unzip your jersey. It looks kind of uncomfortable?" He tilted his head to the side.

Ene hurried to comply.


	12. harutaka

When Takane walked into the classroom, Haruka flipped his sketchbook over. She froze, baffled. Haruka was always eager to share his art with her, even when she didn't want to see it.

"What are you drawing," she asked in a flat voice, trying not to care. She generally didn't pay any attention to what he did in his spare time, but the fact that he was trying to hide it was suspicious.

"Nothing!" Haruka laughed a little. She did not believe him.

Takane waited until he had looked away and zoned out, cushioning his cheek on his palm. Then she struck, snatching the sketchbook out from under his elbow and flipping it page-up. She stared.

"Did you—"

"I'm sorry!" he wailed, trying to wrest it back from her. "I just wanted to draw your oc and my oc and they ended up kissing and I didn't mean for it to happen!"


	13. kidomomo

"I like this one!" Momo said cheerfully, holding up a black bikini top that seemed barely held together by strings. Kido gulped. She didn't know how she'd cope if Momo ever actually wore that thing.

"Don't you think that's a little…small?" she asked, trying to be tactful, though her eyes flickered to Momo's chest before she could stop them.

Momo turned red, but grinned toothily back. "That's 'caus it's not for me," she said with a snicker, holding it up against the fabric of her girlfriend's hoodie and tilting her head as she pictured it.

Kido felt her face go hot. "Oh."


	14. Kano and his mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Child Abuse TW

"You're being so good today," she cooed, running her long-nailed fingers through his short hair.

Shuuya squirmed in her lap when the edge of her nail scraped across a still-healing scab on his temple, but he didn't pull away, instead just turning another page of his picture book. He was just glad she was happy. She'd been so sad yesterday.


	15. Takane/Kido

"Oi, Ayano, you forgot…your…." Kido's voice trailed off as a goddess came into her line of vision.

A short girl with square shoulders was scowling over at them, and Kido had never seen anyone so beautifully furious before. She looked older than either of them. Kido lowered her voice, even though she was wearing headphones and couldn't possibly hear her.

"Who's that," she whispered reverently, and Ayano looked around.

"Ah, that's Takane!" She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Takane, come meet my little sister!"

Kido, meanwhile, was frantically flapping at her with both hands. "No, stop! Don't call her over! I—-hrmph!"


	16. Seto/Kano/Kido nsfw

"A-ah, wait, hang on," Kano gasped, jerking away from Kido but backing into Seto's chest in the same movement.

"Come on," Kido growled, reaching for him again, but Seto stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. They locked eyes, all three breathing hard.

"Are you okay?" Seto asked him, sounding concerned, and much too put-together for someone who until a second ago had had his hand down the front of Kano's jeans. Kano covered his face and laughed.

"Of course, of course! I just, yknow, gotta pee. You two keep going." He hopped off the bed, and turned to walk away from them, missing the silent conversation Seto and Kido had with their faces behind his back.

"Oh no you don't. The truth, now." Kido said, catching the back of his shirt. Her stern voice made him shiver, and Kano wanted nothing more than to come back to the bed and let them keep going.

"I can't," he said, and that was as much as they were going to get from him.

"…We'll go slow?" Seto pleaded, and he sounded like nothing more than a child trying to bargain for a piece of candy. Kano hesitated, then turned around, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them. Kido had already shed her hoodie and shirt, and Seto's hair was ruffled in the back, from where they'd been running their fingers through it. They were both flushed, and Kano knew he would be too, if he would only let it show.

"Ahh, what big babies, won't even let me take a bathroom break," he quipped, but he crossed the room back to them, taking a moment to undo his belt and wriggle out of his pants. Seto made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and Kido was already reaching for him as he flopped down on the bed between them.

If he concentrated hard enough, he wouldn't lose control, he thought fiercely, though his thoughts became more and more disorganized as Kido's nails raked down his ribs and Seto's teeth closed on the skin just under his ear.


	17. Seto and Kano have a silly fight

"You've ruined my liiiiiiife," Kano wailed dramatically, sprawled on the couch.

"It's not a huge deal!" Seto protested, raising his hands defensively. Resting on Kano's stomach were the remains of a crushed vhs tape. Kano gave another melodramatic sob for good measure, holding the fragments close.

"I can't believe you put your foot through my recording of every 1997 commercial that ever existed. You're a monster."

"You can't just leave stuff on the floor!" Seto yelled back in exasperation, completely failing to see the seriousness of the situation.


	18. Seto/Shintaro, Accidental Kiss

Shintaro stabbed at the touch screen of his phone. Lately it had been slower and slower every time Ene left it, and he couldn't believe she'd ruined such an expensive piece of technology. He drifted into the main room, glancing up quickly to see that the only occupant was Seto, who was sitting on the couch. He looked up as Shintaro came in.

"Yo!"

Shintaro was pretty sure he waved, but just then his phone froze up and he turned all his attention to it, muttering angrily. He took a few steps further into the room.

"Hey, watch out, there's—"

Shintaro's shoe caught on a discarded book, and he slipped and fell, crashing half into the other boy and the sofa too. His phone went flying and skittered across the floor. Somehow, also, his face bumped into Seto's, their teeth clacking together painfully.

"Shit—I didn't, I—" Shintaro cursed, scrambling to his feet, but Seto just laughed it off.

"Don't worry about it!"

Shintaro did indeed worry about it.


	19. Setomary nsfw

Mary and Momo were supposed to be going trick-or-treating together. Momo had provided the costumes (herself as a princess and Mary as a witch), and had promised to pick up the smaller girl.

Seto's phone buzzed, and he picked up to see a text from the idol stating that she'd be late, and asking if he could tell Mary for her. Also, there was a winky face, whatever that meant.

He shrugged and put his phone down, before going to knock at Mary's bedroom door. "Hey," he called out, letting her know it was him.

"S-seto? …you can come in!" Her voice sounded unsure, and he hesitated before opening the door.

Mary was standing in front of her mirror, wrestling with the buttons on the back of her dress. She'd gotten them done up to about her mid-back, but was having trouble with the ones at the level of her shoulder blades.

"I can't reach," she complained, and Seto immediately moved to help her, noticing right away that the dress was a lot smaller than it had looked in the packaging. He wondered if that was just the shirt, and there was a skirt lying around here somewhere, but glancing around revealed no extra costume pieces but for a pair of striped stockings hanging over the back of her chair.

Flushing and trying to concentrate on his task, he quickly did up the rest of her buttons.

"Thank you!" she said cheerily, spinning around and smiling up at him, and he grinned back weakly. She hurried over to grab the stockings, and he noticed her rushed movements as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh! That's right! Momo wanted me to tell you she's going to be pretty late." The memory of Momo's text grounded him a little, and he pulled out the cellphone to distract himself as she pulled on the stockings.

"Really? That's great!" She beamed and skipped closer, taking the phone out of his hand. "I don't have to rush then, right? Help me with these too?"

Seto didn't possibly see how he could help her with stockings, and looking to find out turned out to be sort of a bad idea. They came up to just a few inches below the hem of the short skirt, and apparently they didn't stay up. As he watched, she tugged them higher with quick, impatient movements.

"Momo gave me these things, like suspenders?" She was saying, and as he watched she lifted her skirt just a little higher, and he just about had a heart attack. The action revealed garters, and she clipped up the stockings, straightening back up and brushing off her skirt.

She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes. Seto had the feeling she knew exactly what she was doing. "I can't reach the ones in the back," she said, taking a step closer until she stood between his knees. His seat on the bed no longer seemed so distant and safe. "I need your help with them."

Seto didn't see how he would be much of an improvement. Obviously he wouldn't be able to look. But against his better judgement he reached around to the back of her right leg, feeling at the back of her thigh for the other clip. His wrist brushed the inside of her thigh and she shivered. Somehow, his fumbling fingers found the end of the strap and he clipped her stocking up, quickly switching to work on the other one.

He looked up at her face, to avoid looking at her shaking legs and his hands, and she was chewing her lip, her face a bright red. For the third time he accidentally dropped the hem of her stocking, and his hands jerked with nerves.

"Seto," she whimpered, fidgeting again, and he threw caution out the door, pulling her down to kiss him. Mary kissed him back gratefully, her arms winding around his neck, and she half crawled into his lap, making it hard for him to get his hand back where it was before between her legs.

He'd almost managed it, only to find that however the garters connected under her skirt, it was not at all conducive to getting her underwear down, when his phone went off again.

"let me know when you're done, also use protection!" it said, and there was another one of those winky faces again. He gaped at the screen, and Mary leaned over to see what it said, squeaking in embarrassment when she put the pieces together. Seto didn't know whether to be embarrassed or grateful to Momo, and he settled for kissing Mary again until he figured it out.


	20. Momo/Mary, clumsy kiss

"Ahh, we need to find Kido soon," Mary whined, drawing her arms close around herself, doing her best not to meet the eyes of anyone in the crowd. Momo tugged at her hood to make sure it stayed up.

"We'll find her. I'm sure of it!" she said with a grin, pumping her fist confidently. Mary didn't look too convinced, and after a second Momo took her hand. "No one's looking at us now. Let's just go back to the base and if we meet her on the way, then all the better."

Mary sniffled, but clung to Momo's hand like it was a lifeline. Slowly, they made their way back home, and Momo tried to keep calm. Suddenly, she stopped.

"Hey, I bet if we could get over this wall, it'd be a great shortcut," she said, her brain quickly constructing a map of their surroundings. Momo tipped her head back to examine the short wall. It wouldn't be too hard.

A few minutes later, and she'd constructed a sort-of staircase out of trashcans and abandoned crates. "I'll hold it still and you go over!" she said, confidence about her plan burning through her.

Looking frail and unsure, Mary clambered onto the first crate, then lifted her skirts to climb onto the trash bin. She made it all the way up to the wall, sitting on top and swinging her legs over to the other side, before freezing up.

"How do I get down?" she whimpered, and tears swam in her eyes. Momo hadn't thought of that part.

"No worries, I'm coming to get you!" she called, cupping her hand around her mouth before hoisting herself onto the wall as well. She straddled the wall, beaming at Mary so she wouldn't freak out. "See? Easy as pie. Now I'll lower you down."

The second Mary grabbed her hands Momo knew her balance was off, and then somehow they both were falling off the wall, crashing to the ground to land on, thank god, a pile of old magazines that at least kept them from breaking any bones.

"Owwww," Momo gasped, opening her eyes to find Mary's nose maybe an inch from her face. At least Mary had landed on her, cushioning her fall a little. Still, the tiny girl's eyes filled with tears, and Momo couldn't have that, so she leaned up and kissed her without thinking. Anything to keep her from crying, really.


	21. Harutaka, missed chances

Their lives have been a series of missed chances. She never told him, never confessed to him before she died. The next time she sees him, he's not him, but that's okay because she's not her either. It makes it easy to pretend. Well, easier, anyway.

But then in some sideways twisted painful timeline (by now she is aware there are more than one) he remembers, and he turns to her and gasps in pain— in horror— "Takane?"

And that's it for that chance too.

But everything's over, and the memories slot into place in her head one morning while she ties the laces on her red sneakers, ready for her morning run with her healthy, living body. Her hands shake, the texture of the white string between them suddenly too much, too harsh.

And she's running for real this time. (Again.)

She's breathing hard when she reaches the hospital, but there's plenty of time, so she doesn't know why she was running so hard. Takane throws open the door to his room, and he's hunched over his sketch pad, all ash-hair and constellation-freckles. He looked up, startled. And then tears well up in his eyes.

"God damn it," she grits between her teeth, taking one-two-three big steps to his bedside because she almost didn't remember, almost missed this chance too. The sketchpad gets crushed between their bodies when she hugs him, but neither of them care. He sobs her name— Takane— and she wonders vaguely why she is healthy now and he is not. It doesn't seem fair, somehow.

He kisses her to make sure she's there (she is), and it's their twenty-fifty-thousandth chance and they will not mess up this time, they will not lose each other.


	22. Setomary

Seto's half asleep when Mary stirs from where her head is resting on his chest. He wants to ask her what she needs, but he's way too tired, and not even remotely prepared when she tilts her head up and presses a tiny kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

He's not sure what noise he makes but it's probably not very dignified, and she hides her face in his shirt, her voice muffled when she says, "I thought you were asleep."

The spot she kissed is still burning but he clumsily pets her hair. "It's okay, I was just surprised, promised." Slowly, she emerges, and her face is so red under her fluffy white bangs that he has to bite his lip not to laugh, because he knows she'd just get mad. "You don't have to be sneaky," he promises, craning upwards to kiss her on the forehead.

She puffs up her cheeks, dissatisfied, and then he really does laugh and kisses both her cheeks before she gets impatient and grabs his collar, and then they don't stop kissing until Kano comes in half an hour later and offers to get out the video camera.


	23. Harutaka, sharing a room

As soon as the door shut, Takane threw herself on the bed, covering her face with both hands. "I can't BELIEVE this!" she shrieked. She lay there seething for a few seconds, but the sound of the door opening threw her into a panic and she rolled off the bed, in what was supposed to be a smooth motion but ended up with her landing on the floor with a loud THUMP.

"Are…are you okay?" From the floor she could see Haruka in the doorway, and she felt her face go hot with embarrassment. She sprang to her feet, brushing off her skirt. There was a small worried frown on his face, and she kicked herself internally for causing him stress. But that wasn't the point right now.

"Did you hear?" she demanded angrily, shooting her best glare through the wall to wherever the teachers were now, as if it would be felt somehow, "they've got us sharing a room for the field trip."

She understood budgets were tight, but you couldn't have a girl and a boy sharing a room. Just because she had no other girl classmates didn't mean she couldn't have a room to herself.

Haruka laughed, and she scowled at him. What was funny about this?

"I was worried too," he said, looking around the room, "but it doesn't look too small, and the bed's pretty big too. I could probably sleep on the floor actually."

Her intent hadn't been to make him uncomfortable, but didn't he see how ridiculous this was? She leaned against the wall as he came further into the room, setting his bag down on the desk. He started to unpack, carrying a small bag into the bathroom. She followed him, opening her mouth to complain further, but he was in the middle of putting his grey toothbrush in the cup next to her blue one and she lost track of what she was going to say at the sight.

"You're sleeping on the floor," she reiterated finally, running out of steam. He paused in the middle of setting his medicine bottles up next to hers and beamed over at her.

"Of course."

Takane cursed herself for insisting.


	24. Kido and Kano post Ayano's death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide trigger warning

They can’t keep her scarf. Blood isn’t red, not after awhile, and the length of fabric that used to be long enough to keep four children warm is now crusted and brown. Someone washes out the stains as much as possible and they bury it with her. It can’t have been Kenjirou, because he’s never home anymore, and his hands shake too much to do much of anything now.  
Kano thinks it might have been Kido. She’s drawn herself so completely into an unrecognizable pillar, stepping too-soon into a lieutenants role she was only training for. No, these days she’s second in command to nobody, and she makes sure they know it when they don’t wash their dishes, when they track mud into the house. Her brittle words crack and crumple around their shoulders and Kano can do nothing to help her but lean against the wall, exaggerated nonchalance in every line of his body.  
"You’re too strict," he whines. And she is; she’s far too strict with herself, and she will snap any day now. Why can’t she see that?  
She purges Ayano’s room after only a few months, her lips drawn so tight he’s surprised she doesn’t bleed. Into a trash bag on the floor go the childhood clothes and the silly pajamas, the comics she loved, her dvds. She makes to throw out Ayano’s uniform and Kano seizes the hanger before thinking about it.  
It is the least deliberate thing he’s done in months.  
"It’s such a waste," he complains, wrenching it from her hands with force he’s never exerted with her, not before and not since.   
She lets him take it, though she spits “Thief” at his back as he leaves the room, and he doesn’t bring up the handful of hair clips that have vanished from Ayano’s dresser, nor the folded test papers that Kido doesn’t throw away as she cleans.  
She lines the origami swans up along the windowsill, and Kano wonders as he escapes if she’ll open the window to set them free, though he thinks that might be a little cruel, considering all that’s happened.


	25. Tickling Kano

"You need to get a life," Kano teased, slumping back against Seto’s shoulder and regarding Kido with a challenging expression, one eyebrow raised. She inhaled, gritting her teeth, and he could already tell he was getting on her last nerve.  
"I just want to know where you were last night," she replied, her words clipped as she turned away, brushing her fingers through her long hair. She feigned indifference, but he knew they wouldn’t be pressing for answers like this if something wasn’t up. Kano came and went as he pleased, and they barely even bothered to acknowledge it.  
He rolled his head back, an empty smile focused at the ceiling as he contemplated how to answer. There was nothing to tell, really. Rocking his head back further, his skull made contact with Seto’s shoulder, and he paused. Kido probably wouldn’t tell him this, but Seto might. ”You’re so nosy all of a sudden,” he complained, narrowing his eyes at the dingy plaster above them. ”What’s up with that?”  
Kano reveled in the uncomfortable silence he’d created, neither one wanting to answer. Finally, Seto spoke.  
"We heard on the news—"  
"Don’t tell him that!" Kido hissed, leaning forward, but Seto continued clumsily.   
"We heard on the news someone got mugged the other day. A stabbing, actually, not fatal though," he clarified hastily.  
Kano’s smile tightened at the edges, and he substituted the slight tugging of betrayal for mirth, snapping to sit up straight and lean away from Seto. He didn’t look at either of them, a bright laugh bubbling up through his lips. ”Seriously? You guys think I mugged someone? My my, what faith you have in me—”  
"That’s not it," Kido exclaimed, her voice astonished. Insulted, almost, that he’d think that. He fell silent, his smirk challenging her to tell him any different. "You wouldn’t even tell us, would you?" she asked, desperate.  
The pieces had not yet fallen into place, and if they had Kano didn’t want to see the full picture yet. But Seto was talking again, foolishly spilling all the things Kido couldn’t quite say.  
"You wouldn’t tell us if you got hurt, so we were worried," he insisted, and Kano didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want their concern and questions and sad sad eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets and pushed off the ground, intending to head back to his own room and not come out for a day or three.   
A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and jerked him back down, and Kano’s legs shot out from him with as much grace as a newborn foal. ”So you’re not hurt, right?” Seto asked, and Kano struggled, wriggling uselessly in his grip.  
Kido watched the two of them, her expression unreadable for several moments. ”He’s not talking, officer,” Seto joked, glancing up at her as Kano tried to slither out of his grasp again.  
"Guess we’ll have to use more extreme tactics," she murmured, scooting forward onto her knees. Seto’s arms changed position, lifting Kano’s back and behind him.   
"Wait, guys, wai— Hahahaha!"   
Kido started tickling him and Kano writhed, giggles he couldn’t control filling the room. He tried to protest but he was laughing too hard, and Kido’s fingers dipped under the hem of his shirt, dancing across his stomach and ribcage.   
"Not here," she said, proclaiming his stomach free of any injuries. She withdrew her hands, and Kano breathed easy for a second, and then she was tickling him again, her fingers brushing his neck and arms and there was no way he’d gotten stabbed there but she didn’t seem to care.   
Kano could hardly breathe he was laughing so hard, tears starting in the corners of his eyes. Seto started laughing too, a helpless chuckle that shook them both, and Kano thought he heard Kido stifle a snort as she got further into her role.  
"Gotta be thorough," she noted with a wry grin, climbing a little closer to straddle his leg and hold him in place. Kano raised his hands in surrender, as much as he was able with Seto still holding his arms in place.  
"I yield, I yield! I didn’t get mugged last night, promise," he gasped between dying giggles, and Kido arched an eyebrow, looking at Seto over his shoulder.   
"What do you think, officer?" she asked, and Kano waited for the verdict.  
"Sounds genuine to me," Seto replied cheerfully, and Kido nodded, stroking her chin in a caricature of thought.  
"Alright. Release him."  
Seto obeyed, and Kano stretched his sore muscles in relief. He froze when Kido inched closer, poking him in the chest with one finger. ”But I’ve got my eye on you, mister, you hear?”  
Kano could only nod dumbly.


	26. Harutaka Summertime Record

Haruka notices the careful way she slides the door open, how she sits gingerly on the edge of the chair so the edge of it doesn’t touch her knees. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he collects these moments for later examination, sketching them out whenever he’s afraid he might forget.

Takane catches him, glances over his shoulder and sees the drawing of her at the window, her arms hugging herself instead of resting naturally on the windowsill. She’s grown out of her tendency to screech or lay blame, but she does go a little pink when she taps the page, her eyes flickering in his direction.

"That’s me," she says, obviously expecting an explanation. It doesn’t mean much that she realized; though she is far from the only one that figures into his sketchbooks, she’s the only one he draws with a face. The others are oddly-clothed and blank-featured. When he stares down at one, his pencil tapping the page pensively, she tells him, ‘You’ll remember soon.’

He’s sure she’s right.

Now, though, Haruka laughs guiltily, turning the sketchbook back towards him and adding a few more lines to the folds of the jacket across her shoulders. They have outgrown school uniforms (though he doesn’t remember graduating) and somehow that blue jacket seems more ‘right’ on her than her pale sweater ever had. He supposes she was simply too much for one school to contain, too much personality and fire to be cut down to the simple matching shapes of uniform ties and straight-pleated skirts. ”I’ve just noticed,” he says quietly, “that you don’t like to touch things. You use your sleeves to avoid it, right?” 

In the past she would have shrieked at him, would have been flustered and maybe a little frightened by the way that he’d calmly been watching her. But now she bites her lip, looking like she’s trying to solve a puzzle of her own.

"When I was really sick, when we both got really sick, I lost most of my ability to ‘feel’. So now, it’s really too much sometimes." She smirked, adding, "it’s a little dumb that touching a jacket is easier than touching a wall. You probably think I’m crazy, right?"

He doesn’t think she’s crazy at all. If anyone is crazy, it is Haruka, with his old-man hair and the dreams where he wakes up screaming, convinced his hands are red and dripping. Besides, despite her past tendencies to overreact, he always thought of her as the sensible sort. She certainly had always been quick to cut short on his flights of fancy.

Another thought occurs to him, though: when she entered earlier he’d called her over to his hospital bed and hugged her, and she’d jerked away too fast, her fingers curling inwards and her face flushed red. Their feelings for each other were understood but not yet put to words, so he’d chalked it up to that. Now, though, he realized that might not be the case.

"Ah! I touched you!" he exclaimed in remorse, his eyebrows drawing together in worry. 

Takane snickered, and he felt a concerning thunk in his chest that might be another heart attack, or it might just be a reaction to seeing her laugh so uninhibited. ”Don’t worry about that! If touching hard surfaces is bad, and touching the jacket or clothes is neutral, touching you is… I’d say it’s good.” Her words were bold, and before he knew it he was holding out his hand as though offering a handshake.

She hesitated, and then grasped his hand, her palm square and her fingers short, in stark contrast to his artists’ hands, built gracefully and slight. Seeing them together, he found it hard to believe he’d ever had anyone’s blood staining his skin. Maybe his dreams were wrong.

Her skin is warm, and he squeezes her hand, laughing a little at the solemn ridiculousness of it all. ”If cloth is better… d’you wanna come sit in the bed with me?” he asks, glancing up at her.

The hard surface of the chair and floor must have been bothering her more than he thought, because she lurches to her feet, swaying a little like she’s not used to walking (and he’s used to that too, and she explained to him before that she slept so long she forgot she had feet). She perches at the edge of the bed, letting go of his hand to pick at the messy knots on her sneakers and kick them off onto the ground. Then she joins him as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Takane’s body is a small warm shape against his side, and the warmth seems to spread until he’s warm all over, through no help of the light blanket tossed over his legs.

An embarrassed pause fills the room, and then Takane starts to chatter again, filling him in on events in the news while he was sick. The details wash over him — terrorists, apparently, a mall— and he finds himself more interested in the fact that her hand has found his own again, her fingers twining between his as she talks. 

Haruka’s sketchpad lies forgotten on his knee, though he almost wishes he could leave his body to draw the two of them, or maybe ask one of the nurses to take a picture. It’s a silly thought, and when she pointedly asks if he’s listening to her, he chuckles. ”I’m listening!” he insists, and puts in a concentrated effort to pay attention to her stories of what the rest of the world’s been up to, although he only really cares about this room right now.


	27. Even More Kidomomo

Kido thought it would be a little unfair to pull rank on her girlfriend, but she was getting pretty close to doing so anyway.

She fidgeted where she sat on the mattress, squeezing her hands uselessly in her lap. Every time she reached for Momo, her hands were batted away, and when she’d tried to kiss her, the ginger girl had clapped both hands over her protesting mouth.

On the other hand, Momo had scooted so close her leg pressed against Kido’s, and one of her hands curled loosely around Kido’s wrist. That wasn’t the worst of it, though; the worst was Momo’s lips against her neck, working their way along the skin just above her red jersey collar. Momo made a dissatisfied noise, reaching over to unzip it as far as she could before running into the neckline of Kido’s hoodie. Then she leaned over again.

Kido cleared her throat, her hands coming up of their own accord to rest on Momo’s hips. The idol pulled away to grin cheekily up into her face. ”Hey, you know why I won’t let you kiss me, right?” 

Kido wanted to reply snarkily, wanted to be cool and calm and unaffected. But she could feel her cheeks burning, so there was probably no chance of that at this point. ”I dunno,” she settled for, and she would have sulked but for Momo’s peals of laughter, a sound that was incredible even when it was directed at her.

"It’s ‘cause you bit me the other day! And I had to explain it to my managers and I lied and said it was a bug bite—" Momo unzipped her own hoodie to show her better, though Kido’s eyes wandered down towards her generous cleavage before she yanked them back up to the reddish dot on Momo’s neck. "I have no idea if they believed me or not, but I got a whole entire lecture on not scratching bug bites!" 

She didn’t seem too upset, even laughing again as she shook her head. Kido scowled, reaching up to fix Momo’s hoodie, or maybe to unzip it more, but Momo caught her hand, wrestling with her for a second before they both keeled over on the bed, Momo pinning her down. The ginger girl’s smile seemed almost dangerous to Kido, but in seconds it disappeared from sight as she went to kiss her neck again. Kido felt the other girl’s teeth close on the tender skin revealed by the zipper, and she swallowed hard, struggling to keep quiet. 

She’d just about managed it, her head tipped back and her breath coming fast but otherwise unaffected, when Momo’s hand came up to cup her chest, and Kido uttered an undignified squawking noise. 

Momo started laughing, sitting up, though she still straddled Kido and kept her down on the mattress, and Kido gaped up at her. 

"That must be why I usually let you do stuff, huh?" Momo asked between giggles, shaking her head. Kido wanted to tell her she wasn’t any more articulate when they made out, but her girlfriend was eyeing her with a sort of sly amusement Kido had grown to love and fear.

"I gueeeess I can let you kiss me again," she said, tapping her chin. "But it’ll have to be somewhere they won’t see. Luckily my costume for the concert doesn’t have too long a skirt, huh?" 

Kido didn’t need her to hint twice.


	28. Setomary, with a kiss on the nose

"You're late," Mary huffed, puffing her cheeks up at him, and Seto did his best to look intimidated, which was difficult, because right now she looked far more adorable than scary.

In his best attempt at appearing contrite, he glanced towards the clock on the wall, doing his best to bite back a laugh. "Ah, is that right? I guess I lost track of time."

That wasn't true, of course. He'd stayed after work to help a coworker finish up, despite the fact that he'd already promised to be home in time to try Mary's first attempt at making dinner- something he'd entirely forgotten about. But he couldn't tell her that. She'd pout even more if she knew, and then he'd definitely laugh.

Her grumpy expression didn't fade, unaffected by his attempt at an excuse. Seto had to look away to unlace his shoes, and when he looked back he was struck all over again by how hilariously cute her attempt at a glare was. He chuckled.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Lemme make it up to you, okay?"

Her mouth twisted sideways, her eyebrows lifting in an expression that said all too clearly 'I'm listening', and he had to laugh again, taking her by surprise as he hooked one arm under her knees and the other around her back, sweeping her off her feet. She squeaked, startled, and he offered, "I'll give ya one kiss for each hour I was late. How's that?"

She looked like she was considering it, so he threw another glance towards the clock and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

"One."

Mary's cheeks went pink and she looked like she was trying not to laugh, clinging to his shirt as though she was afraid he would drop her. He kissed her other cheek.

"Two."

This time she did giggle, fidgeting in his arms as he leaned down for a last kiss.

"Thr—"

"Stop, stop, you're embarrassiiiiing," she whined, pushing at his chin as he kissed the tip of her nose. Her face was aflame with embarrassment, and he couldn't help laughing, pressing kisses to both her palms, even though by now there were way more kisses than hours. She didn't seem like she minded, though.


	29. Setokano, fake date

"I'm so glad to finally meet all of you," Kano drawled, curling his fingers in the fabric of Seto's sleeve and pressing his cheek against the taller boy's shoulder. "Thanks for inviting me along!"

Seto uttered a flustered noise, but Kano's statement wasn't addressed at him anyway. No, he was currently eyeing Seto's coworkers with a sly expression, likely trying to see if his ruse was succeeding. Seto didn't doubt that it was. Kano made a very convincing girl, with his abilities and all, and whatever he was doing with his body language and voice was not helping one bit.

When he'd bemoaned his lack of a date to the outing, and Kido had suggested someone go along and pretend to be his girlfriend, he'd expected she or Mary (or hell, even Momo) would take up the challenge. But one by one everyone had turned out to be busy on that particular night, and now it was just him and Kano and a handful of coworkers whom he could barely call acquaintances. And he couldn't even tell Kano to knock it off, or the gig would be up.

Kano squeezed his arm again, giving him an adoring and highly fake smile, and Seto sighed. Be strong.

It was easier said than done, though. Everything the other couples did, Kano had to do one better, draping himself against Seto's shoulder or taking pictures in the picture booth or sharing a dessert.

It was while Kano was dragging him into the picture booth that Seto realized under any other circumstance this would be fun. He liked spending time with Kano. He liked holding hands, he liked eating fancy food. Why was he so miserable?

Kano fiddled with the settings, picking a background for the picture, and Seto reached over to prod him in the shoulder.

"Huhm?" Kano replied absently, too busy flicking between a pink one with sparkles and a red one with hearts. He was very committed to maintaining their happy couple masquerade.

"You're goin' a little overboard with the—" Seto hesitated, wiggling his hand in midair as if trying to fish out the word he wanted to say. "With the thing. You don't have to fake it, you know."

Kano shot him an unimpressed look over his shoulder, glancing at him through fake-thick lashes, and replied in a dry voice, "I'm not faking anything."

"Eh—"

Kano slammed his palm down on the button, and the first picture ended up being half the back of Kano's mess of blond curls and half Seto's suddenly flustered face. As the timer clicked down for the second picture, Kano reached up to grab his collar, and Seto could have sworn there was a split second flash of shyness on Kano's face before the expression of playful mischief returned.

"We're gonna kiss for the last one," Kano informed him, and there wasn't much time to respond before the camera went off again and then Kano was kissing him, up on tiptoe to reach, and that seemed pretty uncomfortable so Seto leaned down and circled an arm around his waist to help out. The camera went off again but somehow they both missed it, Kano's back hitting the side of the picture booth as they blundered their way through the kiss.

The sound of the pictures printing went unnoticed by the both of them, and it was several minutes before Seto's coworkers went in to go fetch them out and tell them the stores were closing soon anyway, and shouldn't they get a move on?

Seto didn't miss the satisfied smirk on Kano's face as he swiped the pictures from the tray, nor the stares of his coworkers as he tried to flatten his hair, hoping his face wasn't too red.


	30. Konoshin, with butt touching

"Shintaro," Konoha mumbled, pronouncing each word as if he weren't quite sure what the next syllable was supposed to be, "What are 'naughty-bits'?"

Shintaro choked on his soda and began to cough, certain he'd heard wrong.

The world went black for a moment, and Shintaro wondered if his heart had stopped dead. This was it. Then his vision began to clear, bubbles burning in his nose, and Konoha was pounding him on the back, face impassive as ever. Shintaro hacked and coughed a few more times, throat scraping, before he managed to reply, "What?!"

Every parent could expect to answer that question at least once in their lives, but Shintaro wasn't a parent and Konoha wasn't his child, and this shouldn't be Shintaro's responsibility anyway. If he ran away and pushed it off onto someone else, it would be fine, right? No one could fault him for that, right?

As he began to formulate frantic escape plans, Konoha blinked at him and began to explain. "There was something on the television. I asked Kano, and he said—"

If it was Kano's work, there was no way Shintaro would win. No way at all.

"That's!" he began, his voice cracking as he hurried to explain. "It's like, your butt. It's called that because no one should touch your butt."

For emphasis, he repeated it. "Don't let anyone touch your butt, Konoha."

There was a long silence, and Shintaro wondered if he'd have to say it again. And then Konoha nodded. "Understood."

With a sigh of relief, Shintaro got to his feet. He'd wasted over half his soda, and he intended to take revenge on Kano indirectly by taking another one from the fridge. If Kido asked about it, he'd just pin it on Kano. That would show him.

Something tugged on the back of Shintaro's tshirt, and he glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Konoha close his eyes and lean forward to kiss Shintaro's back pocket.

Shintaro froze, gaping, and then—

"AIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

That high pitched scream couldn't have been him, but he and Konoha were the only ones home at the moment and Konoha was currently blinking owlishly up at him, head tilted to the side.

"KONOHA—"

"Isn't that… something you should do to someone you like…"

What had Konoha been watching on TV anyway?

"NO—" Shintaro cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest. "No. No, you don't touch my butt either. Or anyone else's. No one touches anyone's butt, except for the people on tv because they are bad people. Okay?"

"….Understood."

Redfaced and panting with embarrassment, Shintaro stared at him, wondering if the lesson had really sunk in. It wasn't the most nuanced of explanations, but really Konoha didn't need to be kissing anyone, for any reason, and even the thought of it made Shintaro feel worried and uncomfortable, like someone would hurt the strange boy if he didn't keep a close eye on him.

He sank back down onto the couch, eyeing Konoha warily, replacement drink forgotten.

The silence hung in the air for a few moments, and then Konoha scooted over to lay his head on Shintaro's shoulder, and Shintaro really couldn't think of any good reason to push him away.


	31. Marytaka

Mary didn’t understand technology one bit, so the first time Takane left her body (outside of the previously tense situation, of course), she let out a scream as Takane's empty form collapsed to the ground.

"Takane!" she screeched, rushing to her side and grabbing her hand. "Takane, please, please wake up!" To come so far, only to lose one of their friends so suddenly… Mary had known that Takane had been sick before they met, but she hadn’t expected her to be taken away so cruelly!

There was a moment of silence, broken only by Mary’s stricken sobbing and filled with awkward exchanged glances between the other members as they tried to figure out how to explain that Takane was right here, she’d just gone back to being Ene for a bit. But before they could speak up, Takane stirred, her eyes flickering open.

"Mary, c’mon, I’m right here," she replied, exasperated but also a little touched. She hadn’t expected Mary to show despair for her alone. It made her feel a little appreciated somehow, and she patted Mary’s head as she waited the other girl to calm down and stop crying.


	32. kanokono

Kano was used to being short, but really, this was a new indignity. Just because Kido didn't want him getting into the cookies, she'd put them up on that high shelf… He didn't mind pulling up a chair to reach them, but he might as well make use of their resident android, who was currently wandering around the kitchen with a blank and slightly lost expression.

"Hey, Konoha, help me reach these cookies," he commanded, and Konoha nodded, stepping closer.

Of course, Kano had expected him to fetch the packet of cookies for him from the high shelf, not to wrap his arms around Kano's midsection to lift him off the ground. He fought the urge to squirm out of Konoha's grasp, and instead just reached for the desired cookies.

"Got 'em," he reported, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and his blush didn't fade as Konoha toted him over the couch, setting Kano down on his lap and fixing him with a fervent expression.

"Let's eat these," Konoha said, taking the package, and Kano had to surrender them. Half a pack of cookies was a fair price to pay for the help, right?


	33. KidoMomo anniversary

"Happy anniversary!" Momo shrieked, throwing her arms around Kido's neck. Kido wrapped her arms around her out of reflex, but a puzzled expression swam onto her face. She looked down.

"Kisaragi, I don't mind, but… we've only been dating for a month."

Momo's grin didn't dim eve a fraction. "That's right! It's our one month anniversary."

"Ah," Kido replied, suddenly feeling very out of depth. She'd never been in a relationship before (neither had Momo, but Momo always seemed to know these things,) and she hadn't realized that was an interval that needed to be celebrated.

Before she could work herself into a worry over it though, Momo stood on tiptoe to smooch her on the cheek, giving her a sparkling smile. "So, date tonight? Yes/yes? I already got a babysitter for the guys."

If Kido didn't know better, she'd protest that her brothers didn't need a babysitter— they were sixteen just like her, after all. But from prior experience, she only nodded. "Right. Yes, then. Do I need to get changed?"

Momo gave her a once-over, and then flashed a thumbs up. "Nope! You're super-hot as is."

"Ah," Kido repeated, feeling unbalanced all over again. She would never get used to Momo saying things like that.


	34. SetoMary Eskimo kiss

"Setooo, it’s cold…"

Despite being bundled up in a coat that was far too big for her, with a knit hat crammed as best as possible over her curly hair, Mary was shivering, her teeth chattering. Seto could see that the tip of her nose was red, and she was rubbing her mittens together to warm her hands.  
He should have expected the cold weather to have this effect on her; Mary’s natural body temperature was lower than it was for humans. But she’d wanted to look at the snow.

"Almost home, Mary!" he replied cheerfully. "Need me to carry you the rest of the way?" 

She shifted from foot to foot, snow crunching beneath her boots, and then nodded. Seto swept her up in both arms, and was glad to hear her let out a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She breathed a cloud of condensation into his face, but she was smiling, and he had to laugh back.

Leaning forward, he bumped his forehead against hers, and then nuzzled their noses together. As he expected, her nose was cold as ice.

Ignoring that, he told her, “That’s called an Eskimo kiss. They live in the snow and cold too, so we gotta learn to do that if it’s going to snow much more this winter.”

"I’ll practice," Mary vowed, and he laughed again, turning to head towards home.

"You better!"


	35. SetoKano being silly

Kano let his breath out in a huff, reclining back against the arm of the couch, his legs sprawled across Seto's.

"I can’t believe you’re getting up," he griped. "I only just got comfortable."

Seto gave him an incredulous look, laughing as he shoved ineffectually at Kano’s side. ”Next time, wait and see if I need to pee before you get comfortable. I’m not a chair, you know.”

Kano refused to budge, settling down on Seto’s lap, as if staking his claim on the best seat in the room. ”It’s not my fault you’re so comfortable,” he said. ”Pee before you sit down. It’s just common sense.”  
"You’ve got two options here," Seto warned, holding up two fingers even though the humor didn't leave his voice. "Either you get up, or I take you in the bathroom with me."

Kano opened his mouth to say something sassy in reply, but just as he did so Kido leaned over from the other couch and, without looking, seized Kano’s ankle and dragged him off the couch.

"Ow! Yeesh!"

Seto quickly jumped to his feet. ”Thanks, Kido! You’re a lifesaver.” And then he fled, leaving Kano rolling on the floor in dramatics and Kido pointedly ignoring him


	36. setomary park bench au

The dusty book twitched in Mary's hands, and she squinted, trying to focus on the faded text. She had planned to spend today finishing this volume of fairy tales in the park, and then maybe find somewhere to have dinner and tea afterwards. If all went well, she wouldn't have to speak to anybody, except for maybe the workers in the cafe on the way home. But the person currently occupying the bench next to her was being so loud that she hadn't been able to read a single word yet.

She wasn't exactly opposed to sharing her park bench, of course. It's just, she'd never known anyone to be quite so excited about feeding pigeons. Weren't they more of a nuisance than anything?

"Ahh, don't fight!" the stranger was exclaiming, plunging a hand into his pocket and coming up with yet another handful of bread crumbs. Did he have an entire loaf of bread in there? Mary was trying not to stare, but it was becoming difficult. "I've got more, so you don't have to fight already, okay?"

He scattered the handful of bread crumbs, and if he thought that was going to calm the mangy gray birds, but if anything their frenzy only increased, the seething tangle of feathers growing larger. Mary could have sworn she saw at least two pigeons bob out of the surrounding bushes to join them; she couldn't help watching now, peeking over the edge of her book at the mess.

For some reason, she couldn't find it in her to be too put out over the disruption of her reading time. She'd come here for some peace and quiet, but it's not like he was trying to bother her— although he certainly could stand to lower his voice a little, in her opinion. The spectacle of her bench-neighbor overwhelmed by enthusiastic pigeons was almost a little bit funny. She giggled, clasping a hand over her mouth to hide the sound.

He glanced in her direction, and for a second she thought he'd heard, but he just shot her a grin and then leaned forward to distribute more bread crumbs to the eager birds. They crowded around the both of them now, round his ragged sneakers and her leather boots, and Mary tried not to flinch back too obviously when she tucked her legs under the bench, crossing them at the ankle.

"You're not scared of them, right?" the stranger asked, and Mary hesitated.

The answer was 'no, they're just gross', but he'd greeted the pigeons like they were old friends, and she didn't want him to be offended.

"Don't worry! They like people, especially if they bring food. Here, look!"

As if in slow motion, Mary saw his arm move towards her, fist opening over her skirt to release a shower of crumbs. She didn't even have time to act before she was deluged by pigeons, knocking into her and filling her lap.

With a scream, she scrambled off the bench, tripping and half-falling in the grass.

"Woah, it's okay, they're just friendly—" she half heard through the squabble of birds, but she didn't care how friendly they were. They probably carried diseases, or bugs, or, or—

She hoisted herself to her feet and backed away, ready to flee, when the stranger emerged from the cloud of birds, holding something out to her. She had all the reason to be wary now, but his smile was as friendly as ever, and she realized belatedly that the thing in his hand was her book.

"You almost forgot this," he said, and then glanced to the side, a slight expression of guilt crossing his face. "Er, sorry, I shouldn't have done that… I forgot some people find them kind of overwhelming."

Mary reached out for the book, her hands closing on the cover. It was old, and probably worth a lot, and she would almost certainly get in trouble with the library if it was damaged. But despite her dropping it, there were no tears or obvious smudges on the outside that hadn't been there before. Satisfied, she looked up again.

"I didn't mean to scream," she replied, more than a little embarrassed. She wasn't a little kid anymore, even if she was shy and a bit of a shut in, and often didn't talk to more than one person in a whole week. For someone like her, even having one pigeon thrown in her face would have been a bit overwhelming, let alone a whole flock of them.

"Ha, still— I should have asked. I'm sorry." And then, just when Mary was expecting him to flee, the stranger tilted his head, and asked, "Let me make it up to you? I'll buy you lunch."

If he would bury her in pigeons, who knew what he'd do next? Mary tucked her book under her arm, wanting more than anything to say no and go home and finish reading in the safety of her apartment. But she'd always wanted to go on an adventure, and what was more adventurous than accompanying a mysterious bird boy to lunch?

"There is a cafe I wanted to go to," she said finally, her voice still unsure.

He didn't seem to catch it, though, and instead just beamed back. "Great! Lead the way!"


	37. Konoha and Mary have a tea party

"Thank you for coming to tea, Mister Konoha," Mary said in her soft voice, leaning over to fill his cup with tea. Konoha tilted his head at her, seeming a little baffled by her sudden shift to formal language, and she almost broke character to giggle. But in the end he just nodded, reaching for the cup with utmost care, as if afraid he might crush it.

Kido had asked her to keep Konoha distracted for awhile; apparently he was making a nuisance of himself by being underfoot while she was cooking. Mary had been at a bit of a loss, but if she was good at anything, she was good at making tea, so she thought a tea party might be a good idea.

She'd really gotten into her role too, changing into her nice dress and setting the table in the main room with the cute new cups they'd bought just the other day. A plate of cucumber sandwiches sat on a doily in the middle of the table, and she could see Konoha eyeing them ravenously. With a dimpled smile-- she hadn't expected the sandwiches to go over so well-- Mary offered the plate to him, and he reached out, commenting in an almost mournful voice, "These sandwiches are very smalan almost mournful voice, "These sandwiches are very small."


	38. Seto and Momo swimming

Momo didn't think he'd meant to splash her- it was probably just an accident. Still, there was only one way to respond: with an all out attack. "Sparkling.. wave!" she shrieked, cupping her palms in the water and splashing it back at Seto. He was so startled by her naming her attack that he didn't even try to block it, and the water splashed him right in the face.

For a second he blinked at her, water dripping from his bangs and off the tip of his nose, and Momo thought she might have made a mistake. Sure, he was pretty easy going, but anyone might be mad if you got water in their eyes. Maybe she should apologize...

Before she could say anything though, a grin spread across his face, and he lunged for her, pulling her beneath the surface with him with a loud laugh that cut off abruptly as they plunged underwater. It was several long seconds before the two of them resurfaced again, blowing wet hair off their foreheads. As she caught her breath she could hear him laughing, and finally he called out, "That was my special submarine attack! Whatcha got to top it?" Momo narrowed her eyes with a smile. The game was on.


	39. Shinaya Partners in crime au

The only sounds in the dim room were the click-clack of Shintaro's fingers flying across the keyboard and, of course, Ayano's cheerful humming. He had no idea how she could be so cheerful, let alone so calm. If they were found here, they were dead, no questions asked. The information they'd uncovered so far was enough to ensure that the security guards would never let them walk away from here alive.

"Would you quit that?" he snapped, patience wearing thin, and she went quiet, glancing at him in surprise.

"Eh? You don't like it? I thought something cool for a theme song would encourage you to work faster." She clenched her fists, a determined grin crossing her face. "Doesn't it just make you feel way cooler?"

Shintaro groaned, taking his eyes off the screen to shoot her a weary glance. Her smile didn't fade even a little, so he turned back to his work. He had the passwords right here, it was only a matter of locating the files—

The quiet noise of a door closing down the hall. He froze, but before he could take action, hiding under the desk or fleeing out the window, Ayano straightened up with a soft 'ah!' noise.

"I'll go check," she promised, reaching over to turn the sole lamp off as she left and plunging him into total darkness. The screen glowed all the brighter, and Ayano was lit from behind with soft hallway light, but he could have sworn he saw her put her finger to her lips as she went. "Don't worry," she told him, and then she was gone, red scarf flicking at the edge of the doorway.

He snorted a laugh as he turned back to the screen. She always insisted on wearing that thing, even when it compromised the effect of their all-black clothing. She said it was her signature item, but he suspected she was just superstitious.

Shintaro took a moment to tug at his gloves, uncomfortable with the tightness across his knuckles. He could probably type even faster without them, but it would be a problem if they left fingerprints behind. They were already suspects— it wouldn't do to give them proof.

As he hunkered down to do another search, he heard Ayano's voice in the hall, light and casual.

"Ah, I'm sorry! It seems I've gotten lost, ahaha…"

If it weren't for the suspicious way she was dressed, Shintaro wouldn't have been surprised if the security guard half believed her. It seemed impossible for a sweet girl like her to be involved in something like this anyway. Even he didn't fully understand it. She always just laughed and told him she had her reasons, and not to worry his head about it.

He wasn't in the habit of meddling in his partners' personal lives, but still, he wondered.

"I'll just— ah, let's see— oops!"

There was a crash. That would be the security guard being thrown against the wall, of course. It was incredible how Ayano seemed to be able to overpower grown men through what seemed like pure accident. Shintaro had long ago given up trying to figure out how she did it.

He checked the sticky note again, the one he'd brought with him with the passwords scrawled out in blue ink. It had cost him an arm and a leg and most of his dignity to get these, but he should have asked for more hints. They just needed the documents, not everything on this guy's computer—

Ah!

His eyes widened as he spotted it, and he went to work, copying the relevant files to the flash drive, listening all the while for any other activity in the hall. The guard was probably down for the count, but he wouldn't be surprised if the noise drew the attention of others. Ayano was probably waiting outside the door, just in case. It would only be a few more seconds anyway.

"Done!" he hissed under his breath, yanking the flash drive from the computer and adding in a louder voice, "Let's get out of here!"

Ayano's head peeked around the edge of the door, and she seemed to be looking for confirmation, so he lifted the flash drive for her to see as he gathered up the rest of their equipment. Her expression brightened and she flashed him a thumbs up.

"Easy as pie!" she chirped, sliding inside and reaching to carry her half of the gear. He gave it over easily, glancing towards the window. That was probably the easiest way out of here, and then they just had to get the info over to their contact. But first…

"Good job, team!" Ayano told him, holding up her hand, and he rolled his eyes and high fived her.

"Good job team," he repeated dully, shaking his head. "Now, let's get out of here."


	40. Sorry (Setomary)

“I’m sorry,” Mary whispered, her voice wavering with unshed tears.

Seto paused in the act of picking shattered pieces of china off the floor. “It’s just a plate! Pretty sure Kido got these secondhand anyway. ‘S no big deal, really!”

But Mary knew.

She thought that leaving the forest would be better, not worse. She’d been eager to escape the place where she dared not leave the house for fear of seeing the place of her mother’s death, her memories of the horrible events layered on top of the scenery like thin paper held up to the light.

When they’d passed those places on their way out of the forest, Mary had closed her eyes tightly, clinging to Seto’s sleeve so he could guide her over the roots and loose stones in between. Misunderstanding her fear, he had carried her the rest of the way.

If Mary had thought she was afraid of the woods, the city was worse.

Every shadowed street corner or crooked alley felt like the setting of a dream to her, a dream where her friends died before her eyes. She comforted herself by pretending she hadn’t dreamed them before she met Seto. It was only natural to dream of him and his siblings he talked so much about.

She was able to believe this lie until she met Momo, who’s upturned nose and round cheeks were as familiar to Mary as the words in her storybooks. 

Since then she’d felt hollow and shaky. Every noise could be a gunshot, every whisper could be that voice. She’d thought she would be safe here, but it seems she brought her curse with her no matter where she went.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, a wet tear dripping from the tip of her nose, and Seto dropped the plate fragments to rush to her side, grabbing her hands.

“Really, don’t worry! We’ll get new ones so they’ll all match, promise! It’s okay!”

But Mary knew it wasn’t.


	41. Jealous (Ayataka)

“So then I just didn’t do it, and copied right off Haruka instead,” Takane grumbled, looking down at the slightly crumpled paper on her lap. “Ugh! I don’t know how he found out, but somehow he marked me down for it… I guess you never have to deal with this sort of thing. I bet you’ve never done anything bad in your life.”

Across the table from her, Ayano chuckled, playing with the clasp on her lunchbox. “Ahh, Takane, that’s not true! Everyone does bad things sometimes, of course…”

Takane was already shaking her head, and Ayano fell silent, sensing that she wanted to speak. “No way! You’re some sort of fuckin’ angel or something, I dunno. The rest of us can’t even compare.” She lifted the failed homework assignment, scowling at the notes in the margin. “Guess Haruka’s like that too. He’s at least an idiot, though, for letting me copy his homework like this.”

Ayano just laughed again, opening the clasp of her lunchbox, and then closing it down on her finger so it pinched. In the absence of Takane’s grumbles, she said quietly, “There’s no way I’m an angel.”

But Takane was hardly listening, instead jumping to her feet as the boys turned the corner. Ayano watched her scold them for taking so long, watched her swat at Haruka’s chest as his eyes wandered from her to the remnants of her lunch on the table. She tightened the clasp of the lunchbox just a little bit further, and decided to watch her skin grow red and painful underneath. It hurt less than watching the two of them interact, anyway.


End file.
